


Will Be

by BotchedExperiment



Series: LazyTown more like Hurt/Comfort Town [7]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Caretaking, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting, sick robbie, um yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotchedExperiment/pseuds/BotchedExperiment
Summary: Robbie's got a stomach bug, Sportacus is freaking out a little, and everything will be fine.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the grossest thing I've written in a while. There's some pretty graphic vomiting in here.

Robbie wakes up overheated.

Overheated and nauseated.

Sportacus has an arm around his waist and damn, even when asleep the man has a strong grip. Robbie struggles to get out of the confining blankets as his stomach churns unhappily. He carefully slips out of Sportacus' arms and sits up on the edge of the bed to give his stomach a moment to settle after all of his sudden movement.

It doesn't.

He's going to throw up. Right now.

Robbie scrambles to his feet, ignoring the tired questions of his confused companion.

He gets himself to the airship's bathroom and Robbie's body wastes no time expelling his stomach contents. He chokes up a mouthful of half-digested food and kneels down when the vomiting subsides long enough for him to do so.

"Robbie?!" Quick footsteps make their way to him. Robbie sighs. "Oh . . ."

He doesn't have a chance to acknowledge Sportacus' presence before he's puking again. His stomach gives an angry gurgle as he tries to breathe between bouts, like its threatening him.

Sportacus tells him to breathe slowly, so Robbie takes in a shaky breath, but he ends up heaving again, his stomach tightening. He panics a little and that doesn't do his stomach any favors. God, he's a mess, isn't he?

Finally, his body takes pity on him. Robbie sighs out of relief, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall behind him. Wall? No, that's not a wall, its Sportacus. Eh, same difference. Sportacus doesn't try to touch him too much - something Robbie is eternally thankful for - as he seems to know that this isn't the time to be all feel-y.

Sportacus picks him up as if he weighs nothing, and Robbie merely relaxes in Sportacus' arms, nuzzling his shoulder as the hero is careful not to jostle his sensitive stomach too harshly. Robbie's stomach cramps up and he lets out a whimper.

"Sorry, did I do something?" Sportacus asks with worry as he deposits Robbie onto the bed.

"No," Robbie says, groaning. "My body just hates me. That’s all."

Robbie hears Sportacus chuckle despite the situation, and he takes a moment to scowl at the other man before he wraps his arms around his abdomen and groans, pushing his face into the pillow. He faces away from his boyfriend as he curls up.

The mattress dips under the hero's weight and gentle hands are going up and down Robbie's back as he takes slow breaths. He still hasn’t been able to steady his breathing, his heart is still beating too fast, and he still feels queasy. Good grief, hasn’t he had enough?

"Are you going to be sick again?"

That’s a very good question.

Sportacus is off grabbing a bucket before Robbie bothers to answer. He doesn’t blame him, probably doesn’t want to have to wash vomit off of anything tonight.

All Robbie really wants to do is go back to sleep until his body stops attacking him, but with the way his stomach is churning, he's in for a long, sleepless, miserable night.

And that’s what he gets.

He and Sportacus are just getting settled in when he suddenly shoots up and lurches for the bucket on the side of the bed. He holds it between his legs on the bed with unsteady hands, staring down, waiting for the inevitable. Out of the corner of his eye, Robbie sees Sportacus reach toward him.

"Don’t," Robbie hisses. He'll apologize later, but right now he can't handle physical contact, not while he's boiling from the inside out.

Sportacus' hand retreats. He settles for sitting patiently next to Robbie while the other waits for the nausea to take him over. He seems hesitant and antsy, eager to do something to help Robbie. Robbie didn’t mean to get Sportacus all worked up about this. It's just a stomach bug and Sportacus needs to realize that he can't fix everything!

Robbie sits there  - perfectly still - for what feels like hours but what is probably closer to a couple of minutes. He closes his eyes and swallows hard as a particularly nauseating twist makes itself known in his stomach, trying his best to breathe through it the best he can. All of his attention is focused on keeping his stomach where it is.

". . .  Robbie?" Sportacus questions, worry apparent on his face.

Robbie breathes in through his nose, slowly, before replying. "I'm fine. I'll be fine," he mumbles. He stays in that position for another few minutes before he finally feels something rising in his throat.

He dry heaves into the bucket once, and then another time, and then he's full-on vomiting, choking up colorful bits of icing and cake. Strings of saliva hang from his mouth, slowly falling into the bucket. Eugh. He can't believe Sportacus is seeing him like this.

Robbie burps up another disgusting flow of vomit, groaning through his breath. He takes one of his hands off of the bucket and presses it to his stomach.

His middle burbles between bouts and Robbie whimpers as a sharp cramp shoots through him. He doubles over with a wince. The hand on his back startles him, but it's comforting and he's secretly thankful that Sportacus can tell when he needs the contact.

Sportacus rubs between his shoulder blades while Robbie finally takes the deep breath that he's been trying to get in.

"Are you done?" Sportacus asks quietly. Robbie hesitates, and then nods.

He wrings his hands as he listens to Sportacus cleaning out the bucket. Sportacus has never been fazed by these kind of things. He would be a good nurse, Robbie thinks. He hears him wash his hands before he returns to Robbie's side, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Robbie's sweaty and gross and uncomfortable, but somehow, Sportacus' touch helps. It helps him remember that he's not alone.

"You're very warm."

"I could have told you that," Robbie scoffs.

Sportacus presses the back of his hand to Robbie's cheek and the villain can't help but lean into the coolness. He doesn't realize that he closed his eyes until he opens them to Sportacus frowning.

"There might be a bug going around town. It's no wonder you caught it." Robbie can practically hear the lecture coming already. He knows what Sportacus is implying, but he doesn't get offended because, well, he's not exactly wrong.

Robbie just wants to feel better. He doesn't want to hear about the amount of vitamins he should be consuming. Sportacus realizes this and closes his mouth, the lecture probably being scared away by the look Robbie is giving him.

"Do you want some water? I'll get you some water."

Robbie really doesn't want to risk putting anything in his stomach right now but Sportacus is already up grabbing a cup before he can answer.

His lets himself fall back on the bed. Robbie could fall asleep right here, on top of the covers.

Sportacus nudges him. "I just want to sleep. Sportadork," He whines.

"I know, I know, but just a few small sips, okay? I think you'll feel a lot worse if you get dehydrated."

Robbie sits back up with the help of the hero, leaning against the wall and taking the cup of water into his hands. The sloshing sound it makes is nauseating and he desperately doesn't want to do this. But . . .

Robbie takes a sip. Oh God, it tastes amazing. He keeps sipping the water, and then practically gulping it down before the cup is rudely taken from him. "Hey, wait a minute!" He protests.

"Small sips, Robbie! Or you'll-"

Robbie's clamps a hand over his mouth. Mistakes have been made. He knew that water was out to get him. The regurgitated water drips through his fingers as he throws up. He realizes too late that he just threw up on the bed he and Sportacus were sharing, he just puked in his boyfriend's bed. Wonderful.

The bucket seems to materialize under his chin as the second bout of liquid pours from his lips. And once the fit subsides, Sport places it on the floor next to the bed, a trace of panic in his eyes.

"Sportalame," Robbie croaks. "What are you so worried about?" He's not particularly proud of how he wipes his gross hand on his pajamas.

Sportacus doesn't answer. He only offers a shaky, not-so-reassuring smile, like he's got a million other things on his mind. Robbie knows that look.

God damn it, Robbie is the sick one here. He shouldn't have to do any comforting while his shirt is covered in upchucked water.

Never again, Robbie decides bitterly, is he drinking water. Ick. But he digresses . . .

"I'm fine," he assures with caution. He may not even remotely look fine. His stomach may be making very loud sounds that break the silence between them. But he's fine if it means chasing away the pressurized panic that he sees rising in Sportacus, like a shaken can of soda ready to explode at any second.

Sportacus smiles and waves it off. "I know you are!" he doesn’t sound so sure. Robbie raises an eyebrow at him. He doesn’t have time to address the issue before he's heaving into the bucket again.

\-----

Deep breaths.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Everything is fine. Everything _will be_ fine.

This is what Sportacus tells himself as he remakes the bed. Fresh sheets would have been a good idea even before they got dirty. Hopefully Robbie will be comfortable enough to fall asleep.

Right now, though, Sportacus can hear him dry heaving painfully in the bathroom. His own stomach clenches with worry. Robbie hasn’t had a break since the night began. Sportacus frowns when he looks out his airship windows and sees the sun peeking above the ground. They'd both been awake all night. He hopes that Robbie can still get some sleep with the sun shining in.

He plans to stay in all day, not only to take care of Robbie, but to also catch up on sleep so his own body doesn’t go out on him. The last thing he needs is for his immune system to be compromised while Robbie is still sick as a dog.

Sportacus is just throwing their pillows back on the bed when Robbie stumbles out of the bathroom. He's as pale as a ghost, dark circles under his eyes, a sheen of sweat apparent on his skin. He looks exhausted. Sportacus notes his shaking and wonders if it's because of the fever or because of dehydration. Either way, it's not good.

Robbie stops, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes, shielding them from the sun that's quickly making its way in. Sportacus gives a smile and leads Robbie to the freshly-made bed.

The villain sinks into it with a satisfied sigh. Sportacus climbs in with him and it doesn’t take long for the two to entangle themselves in each other, Robbie's feverish body pressed against his as they succumb to sleep.

When Sportacus wakes, the sun is high in the sky, brightening the entire town and offering a soft yellow glow in the airship. Robbie is next to him sleeping peacefully, his breath having finally evened out in contrast to how it was before.

He smiles. Sportacus feels calmer now that Robbie is getting some real rest.

Robbie's expression is always so soft when he sleeps. It's relaxing in itself seeing the high-strung villain relaxed.

He doesn’t feel quite fully-rested but Sportacus knows that he's not going to be able to sleep anymore, so he exercises - quietly - for a bit before grabbing an apple to munch on. He'll have to find some food that Robbie will willingly put in his mouth, Sportacus thinks absently. Maybe a trip to the store is in order? He doesn’t like the idea of leaving Robbie alone, though.

Sportacus takes another bite of his apple and sighs. He's tired.

He can't remember the last time he was tired mid-day, save for the time Robbie put that noisy baseball in his airship. Sportacus remembers how useless he was that day and knows that he'll be just as useless if he lets this exhaustion go on for much longer. The anxiety that came with taking care of Robbie can't be doing him any good, either.

A whimper draws his attention back to the bed. Robbie muffles Sportacus' name in his pillow as he slowly wakes.

"Yes, I'm right here," the hero says softly as he sits on the edge of the bed, brushing Robbie's unkempt hair from his forehead and feeling for a fever.

"G'd morning."

"Well, more like 'good afternoon'."

Robbie stirs for a bit, stretching and finding Sportacus' hand to latch onto, all with his eyes closed. He finally opens them with a yawn. His fingers entangle themselves with the hero's.

"You okay?" Robbie slurs. He manages to sit up, wrapping his arm around his abdomen. His stomach is probably pretty sore from last night and Sportacus wonders if he has a heating pad anywhere around his airship.

Sportacus gives an amused smile. "Me? You are the one who's sick, Robbie. Did you forget that?"

"Is that a no, Sporta _worrier_?"

"I'm fine, Robbie. Promise!"

"This is all the kids' fault, you know. With their gross _germs,"_ Robbie mutters bitterly.

He giggles. "You can't blame the children for your body lacking the nutrients it needs to fight off illness."

"You're lucky I'm weak or I'd smack you with a pillow."

\-----

Robbie's cold. Really, very cold. He buries himself as far as he can into the fluffy white blanket. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees Sportacus coming toward him with a heating pad. He greedily takes it under the blanket with him and presses it to his achy stomach. God, it's so warm and he's so comfortable.

"I may need to go to the store and buy you some food."

Less comfortable.

Robbie has forgotten that - after last night - he'll have to eat again at some point in his life. The mere thought of food made him nauseous all over again.

"I know you probably don’t want to eat right now, but . . ."

". . . Cake?"

"No. No way! Your terrible diet is part of what got you into this mess, Robbie."

"You keep saying that," Robbie grumbles. "But even _you_ get sick."

"Yes, but- alright you have a point."

Robbie smirks victoriously, and he's about to say something to rub in his victory when his stomach twists. He groans, curling up around the heating pad like his life depends on it. He feels like he could throw up again, but he doesn’t have anything left in him. His stomach is complaining over nothing.

The worst of it does go away, but Robbie is still wincing in pain at every move he makes. From the amount he threw up last night, Robbie is surprised that he even has a stomach left. He tells this to Sportacus who just laughs.

"Let me help."

"No offense, Sportanerd, but I don’t think sportscandy is going to fix this."

"No, no . . ."

Robbie raises an eyebrow at Sportacus as the hero pulls the blanket off of him. What is he doing? Robbie's cold! Have pity on the sick, for goodness' sake and leave their warm habitats alone!

"I _will_ fight you," Robbie hisses. He grabs the blanket back and pulls it up so it's at least covering his legs.

"Trust me, this will help."

And then Sportacus has the _nerve_ to pull Robbie's arm away from his stomach. Well, he more, nudges it and Robbie moves it himself, but still. Robbie is ready to put up a fight when all of a sudden, Sportacus' hand is slipping under his sleepshirt. He jumps at the cold fingers that come in contact with his skin. Sportacus starts rubbing gentle circles on his aching belly.

Robbie melts.

All of the pain fades away as Sportacus continues to massage his stomach, his fingertips sinking into the little pudge that is Robbie's belly.

Robbie's eyes drift closed. _"Oh my God."_

"Is this alright?"

"Mm. What do you think."

After a few minutes, Robbie is practically purring. Sportacus reduced his pain to nothing but a dull ache.

"Thank you," Is all Robbie can think to say as Sportacus pulls his hand away and pulls the covers back over Robbie. He doesn’t feel the need to curl up anymore to stop the aching.

"Get some sleep, alright?"

 

 


End file.
